


Little Spoon

by DodgerBear



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, I can’t tag for shit, M/M, Mickey’s birthday, Prison, Spooning, does anyone read tags?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20269933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DodgerBear/pseuds/DodgerBear
Summary: Mickey should’ve expected it. There was a pattern, after all.





	Little Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> A little one shot to distract from the angst of my latest WIP! 
> 
> Let me know what you think 🧡

Mickey had experienced some pretty crappy days in his 25 years on this planet. Real shitty. The one thing the majority of those days had in common?

They usually included a _really_ good fuck.

His wedding day was a good example. A shit day, in a shit suit at least three sizes too big, that culminated in him ending up with a Russian hooker for a wife. But the start of the day? Fucking amazing. Ian tracked him down to the basement at the venue and fucked him into the sink until his legs barely held him up. It _was_ a good fuck. Good enough to make Ian think he’d changed his mind about getting married. And it was, even to Mickey. He knew he’d never feel that way about anyone ever again. It was good enough to make him want to run away with Ian and live happily ever after. Except, you have to be alive to live happily ever after. So that wasn’t an option. Regardless of much it hurt. Ian wouldn’t understand. Mickey knew that. But if this was the last time then it was a good way to go out. 

The first time he ever fucked around with Ian was a bad day too. He’d had a run in with the fuckin pedo towelhead from the store, gone home and smoked so much weed he passed out face down on his bed. He didn’t know how else to manage the emotions he felt on that day. The anniversary of his mom’s death. Five years had passed since she took too many sleeping pills and didn’t wake up. Some days he missed her more than he could put into words. She was a prescription pill addict but at least she made sure he had clothes and shoes on before he went to school. He didn’t know if it was deliberate. She popped so many pills that nobody could be sure if she meant to kill herself or if her body just gave up. Then he remembers that she left him with Terry and he remembers that some days he hates her more than he’s ever hated Terry. High grade weed was the only thing that blocks out that war in his mind. 

Until Ian broke into his room with a fuckin tire iron that had been in his front yard since Iggy came back from his last burglary spree. The easiest way to deal with Ian was to fight him. The scrawny fucker would regret getting in Mickey’s face on a day like today. Only, he wasn’t actually that scrawny. His muscles were lean but they were strong. It wasn’t an easy beating. They grappled and tumbled on the bed until Mickey was straddling Ian’s hips. Still he didn’t of think anything beyond smacking the freckles off of Ian’s pretty face. _Pretty? _

Ian’s wide eyes staring up at him jolted something inside of Mickey. He was about to ignore it and land a wipeout punch when Ian rolled his hips slightly. Just once. Just enough to push the thick outline of a cock he’d never seen before against the underside of his balls. Mickey froze and it hit him like a sledgehammer. He was hard too. Another glance at Ian’s face told him that the ginger kid expected to die now. It flipped a switch in Mickey and suddenly he was licking his lips and pulling at his clothes and then Ian’s to strip them both naked. Funny how things can change so fast. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about getting fucked up the ass by another dude. But it definitely was the first time he’d allowed it to happen. He could tell Ian was experienced, something that bit at his throat and made him want to choke. But actually it turned out to be for the best because if Ian hadn’t taken the time to prep him...well he didn’t want to think of the pain he’d be in. As it was, his first time was a really good fuck. The afterglow wasn’t anything to write home about but the fuck itself worked in the same way the weed did. Cleared his mind, brought peace. Whatever. Shitty day, brilliant fuck. 

The day Ian took off with Yev was the day the set in motion one of the worst days of Mickey’s life. Ian was in the grip of his mania. Mickey was trying to keep up with his frenetic bursts of energy and constant need to move and to _feel_. Every emotion Ian ever felt was amplified and that day started with a long, hard fuck that rocked Mickey to his core. It was bone-shaking. That should’ve been the sign that the rest of the day was going to go tits up, if Mickey had been one to pay attention to trends and patterns. Waking up and being pounded into the mattress is all well and _very_ good but when the day ends with you sectioning the extremely vulnerable love of your life...well, that says it all. 

The very worst day of Mickey’s life was the day Terry caught him with an assful of Gallagher dick in the middle of his living room. Ian had stayed over and woken him up with a blowjob to rival a porn star (which, ironically, he did become.) 

Ian’s technique was thorough and precise. He was going to suck Mickey’s soul out through his dick and that was the end of the matter. Mickey thought about the handful of other blowjobs he’d received in the past. They were mediocre at best compared to Ian’s efforts. This was how Mickey wanted to wake up every day. This is how Mickey _deserved_ to wake up every day. The blowjob escalated and once Mickey had come down Ian’s throat, Ian needed to get off. He took his time prepping Mickey. Using tongue and fingers and more tongue. It was a long process but they were both into it and it wasn’t like they ever got the whole place to themselves. Ian rocked Mickey’s world with his nine inch wonder-cock. It was bordering on painful. The kind of painful Mickey got a kick out of, if he was honest. The time came for Ian to head to work and Mickey followed him into the living room, naked as the day he was born, with his Ben Wa beans swinging in his hand. He was open and loose already so this wouldn’t take long. He wanted Ian to leave on a high. He wanted Ian to leave him on a high. Yeah. That didn’t fucking happen. 

Considering the amount of times a solid 10/10 fuck had occurred on the same day as some of the worst things in his life, Mickey should’ve expected this. Opening his eyes in Ian’s arms and snuggling back into his firm chest was a normal, regular occurrence. Feeling Ian’s arm tighten around his middle and his breath hot at his neck was the best way to wake up, especially if they’d spent most of the night getting creative with sex positions in their cramped cell space. 

“Mmm...go back to sleep.” Ian whispered. 

Mickey burrowed deeper under their shared blanket. “You’re so warm.”

Ian’s lips brushed Mickey’s neck tenderly. “Sleep...I’m too tired to go again. Your ass wore me out.” Ian sighed. 

A gentle cough. A clearing of the throat. 

Mickey opened his eyes slowly and squinted. Ten pairs of eyes, at least, were looking back at him. Their tiny cell was filled with prison guards, all of them smirking and nudging each other. Mickey froze but couldn’t have moved if he tried. Ian was clamping him in place. The head guard of their wing gestured for them to clear out and waited until they were alone in the cell. 

“Well that clears up that little mystery.” Officer Bentley smiled wickedly. 

Ian’s body jerked as he realized they weren’t alone, pulling Mickey even closer. If that was actually possible. 

“The fuck?” Mickey hissed. 

Bentley just chuckled loudly and jerked his thumb to the door. 

“Little Spoon, you got a visitor. Let’s go!”

“The FUCK did you just call me?” Mickey reared up, ready to lose his temper. 

“It’s okay. Big Spoon will be here when you get back.” Bentley grinned and stepped outside the cell door. 

Ian pushed him gently out of the tiny cell cot they were sharing. “Go on...Mandy drove for hours to be here.”

Mickey pulled on his orange jumpsuit over his underwear and slipped on his sneakers. “Fuckin jerk.” He muttered under his breath. 

“WE AIN’T GOT ALL DAY, LITTLE SPOON! Let’s go, go, go.” Bentley yelled out from the corridor and the two men inside the cell heard the rumblings of laughter. 

Ian stopped Mickey from storming out and potentially doing something to add time onto his sentence by pulling him down for a soft but deep kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Little Spoon.” He grinned. 

Mickey flipped him off with both middle fingers. “You’re fuckin lucky you’re hot, Gallagher.”

So maybe it wasn’t a bad day. Especially compared to previous bad days. He’d had a full night of sex with Ian, who had decided that there was still lots of things to try before his 24th year was done. Then Ian decided that his 25th year should start the way they wanted to go on. Mickey certainly didn’t argue with his logic. And his sister was coming for a visit and bringing Yev along for the ride since Lana was working. Aside from waking up to the whole of D-block staff staring at you while you were spooning your boyfriend, today was barely a bad day at all. Mickey half-jogged to the visitor’s yard with an excitement that made him forget his new nickname. Maybe his bad luck was broken after all. 

“Happy birthday, Little Spoon!” Yev shrieked delightedly when Mickey walked into the pen. 

Mickey froze in horror and it was only when the guard by the door started to chuckle into his hand and Mandy hid her laughing body behind Yev that Mickey realized his family had been compromised. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, tough guy. You _wish_ you got your dick sucked as well as I do.” Mickey snarled at the guard as he passed. 

Turns out good sex with Ian always came at a price. And Mickey was always willing to pay. 


End file.
